


I Hate Wonderland

by Starkette



Category: Alice in Wonderland (2010), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkette/pseuds/Starkette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jefferson hates Wonderland for everything that it took from him and everything that it gave him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate Wonderland

" _I hate Wonderland_." And so he had uttered, time after time. Before and after, past and present: "I hate Wonderland." For Jefferson, it was the land of mistake and misery. It was the land of the lost and all he could never have. But, then, it was also, where he had been given the greatest gift of all.  
  
His Grace: his darling, precious, Grace. What would he do without her? Where would he be? Undoubtedly, still in Wonderland; grieving for the love he had lost. But, he had to continue on for his Grace: for _their_  Grace. Away from the ruthless Red Queen, away from the mania that had once followed in his wake. How he hated Wonderland.  
  
And, yet, how he missed it; how he wanted to return. When Jefferson watched his Grace play: saw her golden curls bouncing in the sun, heard her laugh tinkling like china. He remembered, what seemed so long ago.  
  
Tea for two, tea for three, or had it been more? Chessur had been his companion of the hour, bathing in the rays of light as his tail flicked at cups. His smirk had been unbearable, but Jefferson had long since learned that time would spill the cat's secrets. It came soon enough: a rustle in the brush and she appeared. His Alice: flustered, passionate, and late for tea. As she always had been, as she always would be.  
  
"You're late for tea," he had said without hesitation, "Come, come, don't dawdle. It'll grow cold." Chessur's face could have cracked with his fever.  
  
"My dear Alice, this is Jefferson, the Mad Hatter."  
  
How he hated Wonderland, bringing him salvation but sentencing him to damnation. His Alice: they had laughed, they had danced, they vowed each other the moon and the stars as they kissed beneath its nightlight. But too soon, she was gone, vanishing back into her own land and tiptoeing to the edges of a fleeting memory. It would have suited, but then she returned. Time and time again: through his journeys and her own, they would always reunite for tea. It had been his undoing. He begged her to stay, to venture into the unknown at his side. He had wrapped her locks around his finger, and promised an adventure that would serve a lifetime. If only she would stay for one more day; if only she had left, if only she had never come, if only. If only, if only,  _if only_ …  
  
Mother and daughter destroyed it all: the Evil Queen swept through, the Red Queen rampaged behind. Their game of hate took away his Alice, forever. Lost in their match of power, lost to the lands; he could never find the right one. High and low, he searched, ripping at their curtains in an effort to find what would never be found.  
  
Instead, the devil came to him with his Grace.  _"I'd like to make a deal with you, dearie."_  And those blue eyes, so innocent and young, filled with the beauty of untold stories. How could Jefferson deny her, turn her away when he was all she had? His Grace: filled with love and passion, the same curiosity that has propelled her mother forward.  
  
And yet, cost after cost, he had to pay them: one for his Grace, one for their freedom, one for life, one for this, one for that. What would be the payment now? Locked inside his house, and forever seeking a way home. How he hated Wonderland, for without Wonderland he would be spinning around the lands. He would be laughing through tea with his companions. There would be no pain, no suffering, but yet …loneliness. But, no, he hated it. He hated it with all his being. For where was his Alice? Where was his Grace? Where was he now?  
  
" _I hate Wonderland_." And so he had uttered, time after time. Before and after, past and present: "I hate Wonderland." For Jefferson, Wonderland had been the dawn of the night. He should have never journeyed there, never returned, never stayed, never left.


End file.
